


Sippin' Whiskey Neat

by quicksilverdeancas (quicksilvermalec)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester Really Likes Alcohol, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, breaking up, enjoy??????, pain and misery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 08:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20288614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilverdeancas
Summary: Dean himself was… nothing.And Cas was beautiful.orIn which Dean is destructive, to himself and everyone around him, and Cas just can't handle it.





	Sippin' Whiskey Neat

Sam always used to say that if their lives were a Shakespeare play, it would be a tragedy. Dean, in true Dean fashion, would always brush it off and call him a nerd, but deep down, he knew his brother was right.

Dean’s boyfriend was a literal angel. Dean’s boyfriend was everything. He was pure, and sweet, and honest, and kind, and _good. _And Dean loved him with every sorry fiber of his being, for every single second of his miserable existence.

And Dean himself was… nothing.

_I had a dream_  
_We were sippin’ whiskey neat_  
_ Highest floor, the Bowery_  
_ Nowhere’s high enough_

Dean was a pathetic, self-hating, 40-year-old borderline alcoholic (paranoid schizophrenic?) with narcissistic personality disorder (and, apparently, religious psychosis) who was ridiculously codependent on his baby brother.

And Cas was beautiful.

When Dean left the bunker (almost every night) to get drunk and forget how much he hated himself, Cas would watch him, sad and disappointed. And when he stumbled back in the following morning, Cas would catch him and nurse his hangover and silently curse him for not being able to talk to his own boyfriend.

But it was too hard for him.

_Somewhere along the line_  
_We stopped seein’ eye-to-eye_  
_ You were stayin’ out all night_  
_ And I’d had enough_

He left a note.

_Oh, I don’t wanna know_  
_Where you been or where you’re goin’_  
_ But I know I won’t be home_  
_ And you’ll be on your own_

‘Dean,’ it read. ‘I love you more than anything in the world. But you are heading down a path I cannot follow or save you from. And since you refuse to confide in me, even though I’m more than willing to listen, I can’t help you. The only option for my own sake is for me to leave.’

_Who’s gonna walk you through the dark side of the mornin’?_  
_Who’s gonna rock you when the sun won’t let you sleep?_  
_ Who’s wakin’ up to drive you home_  
_ When you’re drunk and all alone?_  
_ Who’s gonna walk you through the dark side of the mornin’?_

_It ain’t me_

‘I have tried to do everything for you. I have offered myself over and over, and I have tried to be here for you. I have held you and coaxed you to sleep when you had one of your many, many traumatic nightmares. I have left the comfort of our shared bed in the early hours of the morning to come find you at a bar and bring you home because you were too intoxicated to operate a vehicle. I cared _so much_, and you have not seemed to care at all in return. I can’t do this to myself any more. Unless you can change, I can’t be with you.’

_I had a dream_  
_We were back to seventeen_  
_ Summer nights and the liberties_  
_ Never growin’ up_

When Dean found the note, he broke down.

He had known this was coming – he had always known he couldn’t be enough for Castiel – but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

He sat on the kitchen floor, holding the note, his salty tears bleeding through the paper and making the ink run, ruining Cas’ elegant cursive scrawl. Sam found him there when he got up to make himself coffee.

“Dean, what the hell is going on? Are you okay?” He sounded more than a little alarmed, which wasn’t surprising considering he’d only ever seen his brother cry Man Tears™ and here he was sobbing in an undignified ball on the kitchen floor in his pajamas. All he needed now was a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and some bad romcoms to watch in bed.

In response, Dean tried to stop crying and handed him the note, wiping at his eyes in a futile attempt to look somewhat composed. As they flicked down the page, Sam’s eyes widened in shock.

“He- he just left?” the younger demanded. Dean nodded.

“Middle of the night. He’s just gone.”

_I’ll take with me_  
_The Polaroids and the memories_  
_ But you know I’m gonna leave_  
_ Behind the worst of us_

Once he’d recovered a little, Dean made his way through the bunker and started to notice random little things. Things like how a couple of his shirts were missing, and that little carved owl Cas kept on the bedside table was gone as well, and Cas’ favorite framed photograph of the two of them had disappeared.

So he wasn’t trying to forget that Dean had existed, or at the very least that they’d been together – he was just trying to get away.

Dean could respect that.

He hated it, but he could respect it.

Sam had always said that if their lives were a Shakespeare play, it would be a tragedy. Dean, in true Dean fashion, would always brush it off and call him a nerd, but deep down he knew his brother was right. He’d just always hoped that that wouldn’t extend to Cas.

Oh, how wrong was he?


End file.
